


I'm the Plans That You Made, but Fuck All Your Plans I'm Bored

by newtntommy



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Babysitting, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:54:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24941155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newtntommy/pseuds/newtntommy
Summary: The heir of their throne is in danger, and Geralt makes the perfect bodyguard for the young Prince Julian Alfred Pankratz.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 1
Kudos: 47





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This idea has been in my head for a week now and I can't get rid of it. Unfortunately, I was unable to get far since I work full time during this pandemic and can't seem to get enough sleep. After this though, the chapters will be longer I promise. I just had to get the idea started. Please comment some ideas. I do have some of my own, but I haven't seen this idea yet (?) so I'm hoping people will have some ideas. 
> 
> Also, disclaimer, it is all going to be platonic and friendly until Jaskier is eighteen don't worry.

Geralt should have known. Accepting jobs from nobles can go either way - dangerous or boring - but they cannot be denied. Humans are scared shitless of him, and the last thing he needs is a noble family plotting revenge against him for not completing a job for them. 

He was trotting down a trail in Adalatte when the royal family in Kerack catches wind of his presence. He was quietly drinking ale in a tavern when two of the kingdom’s guards marched to his table and announced that the queen was requesting his aid and that she was expecting him soon. 

He had hummed and continued finishing his meal before maneuvering around the guards to walk out the door. He rummages through his bags, taking note of the potions and weapons he has. He was fully stocked up, not bothering to question the guards what the aid entails. They probably don’t know anyway. Nobles and their secrets. 

Geralt can’t blame them though, since he has secrets of his own, but he wasn’t in charge of a grand amount of people. He can have secrets without hurting anyone; nobles on the other hand hurt their own people every day. 

He wasn’t fond of nobles, but they did have quite a bit of coin for his troubles. Also, at least he’ll have a free meal and a bed for once. 

He follows silently behind the guards, ignoring their banter and weak tries at starting a conversation with him. It doesn’t matter because they probably hate his kind anyway. They are just being friendly for the king and queen’s sake. 

The kingdom is not by any means massive, but it was a decent size. Geralt has heard of Lettenhove, but he’s never been. All he knows is that they are known for trading wood and other items. 

They reach a huge set of doors that open slowly, welcoming him in. He sternly nods at the guards who leave him, and he dismounts Roach to tie her up in the closest stable. She starts eating the hay beneath her, and he shyly pets her mane in goodbye before heading for the castle. A lovely woman welcomes him with open arms, and he merely nods. The jewelry and decorative crown on her head identifies her as the queen. 

She smiles at him anyway, “Welcome Geralt of Rivia! So glad you could make it!” 

_Not if I had a choice._

“Mm,” Geralt grunts, waiting to get right into the job. He was low on coin. 

She smiles again, straightening her back, “Follow me. I’ll explain your assignment.” 

Geralt furrows his brows, “Assignment?” The queen gives no explanation, and he’s forced to just follow her down extravagant halls. Her heels click on the marble floors. Geralt can’t help but become annoyed, but he keeps his mouth shut. 

“Do witchers have siblings?” she asks a few steps ahead. Geralt clenches his jaw. 

“No.” 

“Before the trials?”

“Not that I remember,” Geralt quips back, not wanting to talk about this. What are they doing? What monster needs to be killed? Is there a monster? Why is he here? 

“That’s a shame,” she comments. “I have only one son, you know. Julian. Such a sweet child, but only child nonetheless.” 

“Hmm.” 

“I am unable to produce another child, so it is only him. Thank the gods he’s a male. Family blood and all is needed to inherit the throne.” 

Geralt cracks his knuckles. He is a patient man, but what is the point of this conversation? 

The queen walks them right up to a door. A large door at that - decorative and finely cut. She turns around with a worried look in her eyes. She bites her lip and breaks eye contact with Geralt, who tenses. 

She brings her hands together and resumes looking up at Geralt with sad eyes, “The poor boy from our neighboring northern kingdom has recently been kidnapped and slaughtered. The sweet child was practicing his sword fighting when a group of bandits attacked him and his guards. They took the child away and only a week later they put his mangled body right on the front steps like a cat with a dead bird. Can you believe it?” 

Geralt remains quiet, not knowing what to say. He’s hunted monsters for hundreds of years now, and it was the humans who really made him sick with their foul, brutal actions. At least with monsters you knew what you were going to get. Humans? Not so much. 

The queen clears her throat and wipes at fallen tears, “The kingdom is in total shambles now since they are only left with two little girls, and they have no idea what to do. It is total chaos over there, and I can’t imagine it happening to me, so…” 

Geralt grunts, not liking where this is going. 

She takes two steps closer and steadily places her hands on his chest, and Geralt wants to sigh. He continues to stare at her, waiting for the inevitable. 

“I need you to watch over my son for me. He has just hit year twelve, and that is one year younger than little Emhyr. I’m just so terrified they’re going to come get him next, Witcher!” she exclaims with beady eyes. Her cheekbones are drenched with tears, and her fingers form into nervous fists on his breastplate. Her heart beating rapidly and the smell of her salty tears overwhelm Geralt’s senses, and he clears his throat. 

“I’m sure there are plenty of good bodyguards that would cut off their right arm before harm is done to your son, but I am not that guard. That is not my specialty, and I must politely decline-” 

“You can live here for free!” she bargains desperately. “Free meals. Free bed. Anything you want.” 

Geralt bites his tongue at the words. He hasn’t had anything free in years, or whenever he did a job for a sweet woman near the coast. He sighs, “There are monsters I have to tend to-” 

“Bring him with you? He loves a story!” 

“Your majesty-” 

“Fine, you can be gone for your quests, but not for long? What do you need, a week? I can handle that. Just...please, you have to reconsider. My kingdom needs you,” she begs. Her brown locks frame her wet face. “Anything you want is yours.” 

“Hmm,” Geralt grunts. Vesemir is laughing at him from Kaer Morhen. After the trials and the hundreds of years of monster hunting, and he is being hired to be a glorified babysitter for a prince. His duty was not to deal with humans. His duty was to keep the monsters at bay in order for the humans to be safe. The least human interaction the better. He did everything in his power to stay out of human business and affairs, but now he has a weeping queen begging for his assistance to watch over her son for the sake of her kingdom. 

He couldn’t care less on what happens to the kingdom. Let them all fall for all he cares. They never did anything for him except provide a room and a meal for a contract. Even then, they aren’t ever truly nice to him. 

This time though, it was different. What the queen was offering was less of a temporary situation. If the boy was around twelve, his job would last at least until he was eighteen and ready to take the throne. That is six years. Six years of free room, food, and ale. Six years of free room and board, while sometimes leaving for contracts. 

This was an interesting case. 

He peers around, realizing how silly he looks with a weeping queen on his chest. 

He huffs, “I’ll do it.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I guess it's time for Geralt to meet Julian, hm?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the kudos and bookmarks are making my day! I hope you guys like this chapter. Please comment your thoughts!

It turns out that the castle is pretty damn huge and confusing. Geralt was sure one of them had an infatuation with secret doors and passageways and was there to help design the building to make it as complicated as they possibly can. Getting to his room was simple enough - two lefts and a right from the prince’s room - but gods forbid he has to one day find his way elsewhere. 

He gets a short tour from a nervous maid, Jenna, and he nods from time to time to show that he is listening. Jenna appears to warm up to him by the end of the tour based on her warm invitation to dinner later. 

Geralt has yet to meet the prince, since apparently he’s in one of his lessons and cannot be disturbed. He doesn’t mention the fact that them being in separate rooms doesn’t necessarily scream out “bodyguard” but rather “bodyguard only when you’re free”. No matter, though, because he is sure that the boy will run away from him as soon as he lays eyes on him. 

Him and children don’t mix. Children don’t want anything to do with him because they immediately run away in fright at the sight of his two swords, black armor, scarred skin, his yellow eyes, and his heavy boots that crush everything he steps on. The horror tales that are spread to each town don’t help either. The tales that explain how dangerous and inhuman he is, and how he smells like death everywhere he goes. Parents go on to say witchers will sometimes hunt naughty children in the night and skin them. Geralt has heard it all before and sneers at the blatant lies. 

He does give credit when it’s due, and he does indeed smell like death most of the time. It’s not his fault he’s normally pushed out of town as soon as his job is done. He doesn’t know what he’s expected to do when his only washing source is a nasty lake in the middle of the woods. 

Geralt does not look forward to meeting the boy. There is a chance the boy will be too afraid of him, and Geralt will be forced to leave and the deal will be revoked. This is why he doesn’t put any of his things down in his room. 

Two hours pass and he finally is being led to meet Julian. Julian is still working on his studies, but the queen insists they meet sooner rather than later. Geralt passes by who appears to be Julian’s servant, and she sneers at him in disgust as he walks. Geralt grunts in return. 

The prince’s study room is huge and lavish with two desks, one wide couch, three sitting chairs, and four ginormous windows that provide sunlight to stream in. The light blinds Geralt for a second, but then his eyes adjust within moments. 

The servant leaves with a click of the door, and Geralt finds himself thankful for the solitude. He finds the prince at one of the desks with a quill in his hand scribbling like mad. His back is tense, but he straightens up at the sound of the door. Fear and anxiety washes off him in waves, and he is sure to take silent steps over to him to not startle him further. 

“I’m on page thirteen. Two more pages to go!” the boy exclaims with quivering lips. His quill scratches more at the paper. “You said one more hour thirty minutes ago.” 

Geralt’s nose twitches at the harsh smell, and he doesn’t know how to respond. Who is he talking to? The servant lady? 

He settles on, “Hmm.” 

The boy jumps in his seat and stands up. He twirls around with his quill still in his hand as if to be used as a weapon. Geralt snorts, yet takes him in. 

Julian was definitely a noble in the sense that he was wearing a light tunic and matching breeches. His shoes are to a point without a scratch on them. On the other hand, there was something off about him. His skin was blemish-free except for the sores on his right thumb and index finger, and there are wrinkles throughout his outfit. His socks are not evenly pulled up, and his messy hair was long enough to cover most of his ears. His cheeks are pink with embarrassment, and his blue eyes openly stare at him in confusion. 

“Who the hell are you?” 

“Geralt.” 

“Huh,” the boy responds. He sets his quill down and takes a few steps closer. His facial features lighten up, and Geralt finds the stench of fear from earlier is long gone. He only smells the slightly bitter stench of curiosity mixed with caution. This is odd. 

It must hit Julian right there cause he gasps, “You’re my bodyguard! Mother told me about her hiring you. Though, I did not expect her to go out and collect a witcher.” 

Geralt stays silent and watches Julian’s face go through a series of phases. It was fascinating to watch. He’s only witnessed anger and revulsion from humans he’s recently engaged with. Having a child search him up and down with intrigue was new and refreshing. The smell of fear gives him a headache. 

“How many monsters have you slayed?” Julian asks excitedly with a clap of his hands. 

“Hard to count.” 

Julian frowns, “You must have an idea! Thousands? Hundreds? Hundreds of thousands?” 

“Mm.” 

The boy full-on slouches with disappointment. His bottom lip dramatically quivers, and Geralt raises an unimpressed eyebrow. Julian crosses his arms and stomps his foot, “Of course Mother would assign a witcher with no tongue to me to watch over me. She’s not interested in hiring you, when she is oh so obviously doing this to punish me!” 

Geralt exhales harshly to hide amusement, “What is she punishing you for?” 

Mischief spreads across Julian’s face and he cheekily says, “For writing a song about her morning hairdo one morning.” 

“Mm,” Geralt fights a sneaky smile from forming, and he is distracted when suddenly Julian rummages onto the couch on his bare feet. The prince puffs out his chest and stretches his lower limbs, and Geralt realizes that he is trying to match his height. Geralt stares at the prince. 

Julian scrutinizes him childishly, jutting his chin out proudly. Geralt stares on until the boy brings his hands to form a square. He then whispers very seriously, “With that scary face, I have nothing to worry about. All the beasts and bandits will go running with their tail between their legs!” 

Geralt tilts his head, “Humans don’t have tails.” 

Julian shrugs, “Didn’t fit the metaphor.” 

Geralt hears the heartbeat and fast footsteps only a moment before the door crashes open to reveal the prince’s servant. He turns over to face her, and he hears the quick movement of Julian racing back to his desk. Geralt hesitates when suddenly he is smelling the aroma of fear and anxiety again, and he checks to find Julian with the quill in his hand furiously writing.

“Are you not done, child?” the woman spits out, though Geralt can tell she is trying to keep her composure in front of him. She barely glances at Geralt, only having eyes for the prince. Geralt itches to stand in the middle of them to hide Julian’s frame. 

“Almost,” Julian squeaks out. 

“Almost?” the servant guffaws with a fake snicker. “Was it foolish of me to think that since you two are talking about nonsense that it is because you are done with your studies?” 

Irritability mixes into the stew that is Julian’s anxious stench, and Geralt can’t help but glare at the woman. He guesses she is more of a tutor than a servant. 

“No, Miss Clarisse, I was only-” 

“What?” she sneers. The tension is starting to truly boil around the room. He can hear Julian’s rapid heartbeat and the servant’s glare burns right through him. He doesn’t know what is going on, and why the woman has such hostility for the prince. He was only twelve, and he seems to be pretty far up in education wise. There was no need to be so blatantly crude. 

“He was correcting my grammar.” 

What the fuck. 

Julian and Clarisse must think the same thing because they both look up at him with shock. Geralt doesn’t add on, not sure what else to say. He didn’t plan on lying for the boy...he was just so tired of the despair wafting off Julian. 

He will probably blame it on the amazing feeling he got when the woman glares harshly at him like anything about her could give him a hint of a shiver. 

Then he hears Julian walk up from behind and throw a stance, “Witcher grammar, amiright?” 

Geralt slowly turns toward him and shoots him a stoic stare, and Julian winks at him. 

The servant marches out of the room without another word, and Julian’s shoulders sag in relief. He grins up at Geralt, “I may just live to see another day!” 

“Mmm.” 

Geralt sits down and gestures to the desk silently, and Julian huffs but does go back to his work. Though, when the boy does sit, he turns to Geralt with a thoughtful look. 

“What do you think having good character involves?” 

“I’m not giving you answers to put in your paper.” 

Julian’s cheeks go pink, and he rolls his eyes, “I am at page thirteen. It would make no sense to steal someone’s ideas at this point.” 

Geralt furrows his brows at him, “You don’t talk like you’re twelve.” 

“You just don’t talk.” 

Geralt halts mid-eyeroll. “I talk,” he grunts. 

“To who?” 

“People I like.” 

“You’re hilarious. Next paper is on witcher humor. I could almost write a whole page now. Mind if I quote you?” 

Geralt grunts, scoots farther back into the chair, and he closes his eyes leisurely. “Having good character includes knowing when to shut your mouth.” 

The prince giggles under his breath but doesn’t respond to that, and Geralt spends the next hour listening to the soft scratching of pen on paper. Every now and then the scratching will be disrupted by frantic whispers as Julian thinks out loud. It is sort of a relaxing sound, and it helps fight off the uneasiness of having to act bodyguard for a prince. It is not a job he was trained to do, and it’s definitely not a job he should have, but here he is on a comfortable couch while his charge is busy writing a paper. 

An hour later, they are interrupted by Julian’s parents collecting them for dinner. Geralt follows them quietly, while Julian talks at record speed by his side. He’s lost track of what the prince was rambling on about, but he was smiling wide as he babbles. 

Julian’s mother watches her son fondly, responding at reasonable times whenever Julian goes to catch a breath between sentences. Geralt ends up sitting beside Julian, and he doesn’t respond near as much as he probably should, but the boy doesn’t seem to mind nor does it make him falter. 

Geralt is given free food and ale as promised. He catches Julian reaching for his cup in time to stop him, knowing surely his parents wouldn’t want him drinking this young. Probably. His father does laugh at his antics, but Julian just sticks his tongue at him. Geralt grunts. 

One thing he has noticed so far was that Julian was a very touchy kid. He will crawl across your lap to reach something while he could’ve simply asked for it. He pats at Geralt’s arm to get his attention - which was nonstop. Not once has he met someone so intent on having his attention for so long. 

The best thing was that Geralt didn’t even need to say anything half the time. Julian teases him for not saying anything, but he still keeps the conversation going whether or not Geralt helps move it along. He’s a kid and holding a conversation was second nature to him, especially for a prince who was studying liberal arts. 

In fact, Julian was still talking to him as he follows Geralt to his assigned room. The prince skips as he walks, voice rising and lowering with every important detail of his story. It is not until Geralt begins to shut his door that Julian gets the hint and takes a step back. 

Julian is mysteriously quiet then, and Geralt and him observe one another for a minute. Geralt grunts and nods his head.

“Your majesty,” Geralt takes a stab at a joke he thinks Julian would find tolerable. 

He gets the opposite. 

Julian scrunches his face up in an adorable, childish way. “Never call me that again, witcher.” 

Geralt raises an eyebrow, though, chooses not to comment. He nods towards his room in a way to show goodbye. “Night, Julian.” 

The widest, brightest smile erupts on Julian’s face, and Geralt’s stomach does flips. His skin prickles when suddenly he gets an armful of Julian, who squishes him into a hug. He awkwardly pats at his back until the boy lets him go a few minutes later. The smile is still there.

“Goodnight, Geralt of Rivia!” 

Geralt watches him as he runs down the hall.


End file.
